


A Father’s Joy

by octoberinlondon



Category: The White Queen (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 14:49:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2232972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octoberinlondon/pseuds/octoberinlondon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was tired. He doubted he’d ever been so tired. He turned the baby monitor off and checked if his wife was still sleeping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Father’s Joy

Richard York Sr. scratched his head and yawned. He was tired. He doubted he’d ever been so tired. He turned the baby monitor off and checked if his wife was still sleeping. She stirred, the sobs of her youngest son had almost woken her up, but Richard had kissed her cheek and murmured something into her ear, making her relax almost immediately. 

He stretched his limbs, and got up to check on his little buddy, as he fondly called his youngest. He passed the mirror in the hallway, almost not daring to look. He risked it though and suppressed the temptation to laugh at his reflection. His hair was all over the place, and the late hour definitely had an impact on him. 

Little Dickon was almost five months old and actually a good sleeper. Richard knew something had to be terribly wrong. Dickon did not cry easily, especially not at night. “Hey, little buddy, what’s wrong?” Richard bent over the cradle, a concerned look on his face. “Hungry?” he asked, already knowing it wasn’t so. Sobs were shaking the little body as he was picked up by his father. 

Dickon was not his first child, in fact, he was number seven. Richard knew what his little buddy was up to. “Ah, your belly then.” He sat down in the old rocking chair, gently massaging the troubled belly. Pain strained the little face, and Richard couldn’t help but feel sorry for the little man. 

He began to rock Dickon gently back and forth, slowly calming him. He was an experienced father, not the newbie he had been as Annie had made her entrance into this world. Without him. He’d been in the library, totally exhausted because Cecily’s cravings had kept him up all night. He’d turned his phone off, in order to be able to concentrate completely on his dissertation. 

Everyone had always said the first birth would take a while, but he should have known Cecily would be different. When he had come home and found the note, he’d rushed immediately to the hospital, only to find Cecily already holding a tiny baby in her arms. She’d named the girl after his mother, and he had been unable to do anything but sweep her into an embrace, being at loss for words. 

They’d always wanted a big family. He wanted one because he finally wanted a family of his own…something that would fill the emptiness he’d always felt. He’d been an orphan, a rich orphan, but still an orphan with only a sister left. Cecily wanted a big family because she wasn’t used to anything else. She’d grown up in a loud and noisy family, with an uncountable number of siblings. They should have stopped after child number five, but he couldn’t take his hands off her, and so George and Richard’s little namesake had joined the family. 

“I think seven are enough, though,” Richard yawned, looking at Dickon who’d calmed a bit, but would still mewl in protest as soon as his father threatened to pull his hand away. “You can deny it as much as you want, little buddy, but that’s the Neville-blood.” He laughed a breathy laughter, changing the position of his son, so he was snuggled against his chest. 

Annie, Ned, Edmund, and Bessie had the typical Neville looks, blond hair, blue eyes and the most charming smile on this earth. George had chestnut coloured hair and brown eyes, a nice mixture of his mother’s fair and his father’s dark features. Then there were Meg and Dickon, both taking after their father, with dark green eyes and hair as black as the feathers of a raven. 

Richard eyed the little baby in his arms, getting up carefully. His attempt to place Dickon back into the cradle failed terribly and ended in a loud and annoyed cry. “No, no, no! Please, little buddy, don’t cry. You’ll wake up your mum, and your siblings. I don’t know which is worse…”

Richard sighed, realising he’d just been defeated by a little baby. “Alright, buddy. We’ll cuddle.” The little red face stared at him in anger for a few seconds before it evened out again. “You’ll be a fighter, hmm? I always thought you’d be a scholar, but apparently, you’ll be a fighter,” Richard laughed, patting the little back.

Dickon had not forgotten the attempt to get him back into his cradle and continued to mewl, prompting Richard to walk up and down, turning to the little radio he’d bought for the nursery. “What are you up to, little buddy? Some Jazz? I think that would be good.” He grabbed one of the CDs that usually had their place in his office, but somehow always found their ways into the nurseries of his children. 

Richard had discovered that his taste for good Jazz music had been something his children shared with him, and that it calmed them very much. “Miles Davis? You’ve got a good taste, little man,” he grinned, fumbling at the radio until he was able to push the CD into it. Finally, the smooth tunes of _It Never Entered My Mind_ filled the room. 

Richard hummed along, gently moving to the music. Occasionally, he kissed the top of the tiny head. “Don’t fight it, little man,” he smiled, seeing how the little boy fought to keep his eyes open. “Your mum loves this song too. She could never resist dancing with me to it.” 

“I still can’t,” Cecily smiled, leaning against the door frame. She looked tired, and Richard realised immediately that Dickon probably wasn’t such a good sleeper as he’d always thought. He gently shifted Dickon and held out his arm for his wife. She gladly snuggled close to him, moving with him and their son. 

“It’s his belly, hmm?”

“He’s kept you up a few times, right? Why did you never tell me? Why did I never notice it?”

“You need your sleep. Most of the time he just wanted to cuddle…and you are not really helping when he’s hungry,” she yawned, snuggling a bit closer. 

“You need your sleep as well.”

“I don’t have to make decisions that can have a serious impact on other people’s lives. You have to be wide awake doing that.”

“But,” he wanted to protest. She interrupted him, murmuring “I love you,” into his ear before kissing his cheek. She let go of him, turning to the door again. 

“Just bring him with you. He can sleep with us for once. He’s not going to give up anyways. The Neville-blood, you know.” A big grin parted her lips. He chuckled, a low noise that she loved so much. He followed her, little Dickon in his arms. The little boy closed his eyes, content and happy that he would not sleep alone tonight. 

Richard heard the even breaths of Cecily and Dickon. He smiled, yes, that was his joy. He wouldn’t exchange it for anything else. _A father’s joy_ , he thought, closing his eyes and drifting into a peaceful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's technically not a TWQ fic, but since at least baby Richard is in it I thought I could post it here. ;) 
> 
> This is for Chelle, for giving me feedback. Thank you so much for it. :)


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